Thunderstorms
The sound of the storms that invading myself
As much crude already the fears degrading
Ways the most terrible I gates
I cling to emptiness that still brings
Corrupted carcasses of hope
And renewing them in death glare
Still making a walker
Revises the sprout for new lifetimes.
I am a pariah and nothing else I could
Knowing the emptiness that I tamed
Just the division was ever sum,
Wandering about as a nothing in anguish
Neither let the shadows when you leave,
Death, beautiful harbor, an elixir...
Loures
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